Page 4 of Libby's London Merchant
“Oh?”
The butler raised his eyebrows in unconscious imitation of his master. “I think he is nothing but a tradesman, and he has the most unusual sample case with him.”
“Come now, Luster, you know all salesmen are shown the entrance belowstairs.”
Luster came closer. “Certainly, your grace, but this one might require your attention. Look you here, sir,” he said, and held out a card.
The duke took it. “Why, this is Eustace’s calling card,” he said, turning it over. He peered closer at the words scrawled on the back. “’You promised,’” he read out loud. He looked up at his butler. “I do not perfectly recall. . .”
Hardly had Nez uttered a larger understatement. The final thing he remembered from last night was snatching a garter from an opera dancer at Covent Garden, and even that memory was not as sharp as he would have liked. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the red satin garter.
Luster coughed politely and looked away.
“Luster, you old prude,” the duke said. “Never tell me my father never surprised you with one of these.”
“Your grace,” the butler declared, his voice shocked. He rocked back on his heels. “But now that you mention it—”
“I rest my case.” The duke stuck both hands in his pockets and stretched out his long legs. “This man below. Does he have a card?”
“Indeed, your grace. Here it is.”
The duke accepted the card. “Ignatius L. Copley,” he read. “Copley Confections, by appointment to His Majesty King George the Third.”
A warning bell began to toll in the back of his brain, right next to the sleeping animal that woke and started to circle about inside his head again. What in God’s name did I promise Eustace last night? he asked himself.
“Send him up, Luster. Let’s get this over with.”
The butler withdrew. Nez lurched to his feet and headed in the general direction of the sideboard, where he was vastly disappointed. Mother must have seen to the removal of the chamber pot that His Grace William Nesbitt, Sixth Duke of Knaresborough, used to keep there, for situations such as this one.
Considering the state of his much-abused kidneys, this interview with the candy man would be a short one. He would guarantee to purchase whatever it was he must have promised Eustace last night, and then beat a hasty retreat to the necessary.
The door opened and Luster showed in a gentleman as round as he was tall, who appeared to be all teeth and general good cheer. Weakly, the Duke of Knaresborough allowed himself to be greeted with a series of bows that seemed excessive. He gestured to the chair next to him and looked at the salesman expectantly.
The man stared back just as expectantly. He cleared his throat finally when the duke appeared disposed to remain silent, and leaned forward. “My lord, do you not know why I am here7”
The duke shook his head, a motion he instantly regretted, and waited for his brains to fall out of his ears.
“Pray enlighten me,” he said, and looked at the man’s calling card again. “I am overfond of confections, to be sure, but I do not know that I require a salesman to look after my needs. A simple trip to the sweet shop will suffice. And by the way, it is your grace, and not my lord.”
“But, my…your grace, the Earl of Devere said you were needing my services.” The little man strained forward, and the duke was compelled to lean forward too, which made his head throb.
“Pray explain yourself, sir,” the duke said.
The salesman blinked in surprise. “Your worship, he told me you would understand perfectly. See here, he paid me for the use of my sample case.” The little man winked. “I don’t doubt but what the Earl of Devere was a bit to let at the time, but he said you would be borrowing the case for a couple of weeks for a trip to Kent.”
Kent. The warning bells went off all at once in Benedict’s overtaxed brain. The Duke of Knaresborough could only admit defeat and slump back in his chair. “He paid you money?” he asked. Good Godfrey, Eustace is serious, Nez thought as the salesman nodded so vigorously that his stomach shook.
“If I may venture, honored sir?” began the salesman.
The duke was stricken into silence by the monstrous perfidy of his nearest and dearest friend.
“He admitted to me that you had made him the happiest man on earth.”
“I don’t doubt that for a moment,” agreed the duke. “Well, sir, let me see your wares.”
The salesman opened the sample case, which had double rows of drawers with brass fittings. He opened one drawer and the duke leaned closer.
“Your grace, behold the prize of Copley Confections,” said the man with a flourish. He paused for dramatic effect. “King Charles’s Revels!”
